Daughter of Gods: Disillusionment Book One

By T.C. McMullen

Over 2000 years have passed since mankind found its creators, the Pure Ones, and abandoned the world they once destroyed. When they return to Earth to mine its resources, they do so not knowing the multitudes of humans left behind hadn't all died. Life has changed much for the people of Earth by the year 4327.

Tryn Brye Annis, a daughter of her people's guardian clan, is free in her mind even as the invading Madai people keep her enslaved in the mineral mines. Cedrik DeVassi, a young Madai royal, has witnessed the truth of his people's lies first hand. He lives as a recluse, helping slaves whenever he can. His annual trip to the slave market brings him to Tryn.

There is something about her he knows he must set free despite the dangers of doing so. With the help of a little man of the Argel race and an exiled god, Cedrik and Tryn are catapulted into an adventure of danger, discovery, and a quest for freedom-her freedom from the slave mines, his from his secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Star Publish LLC
• Release date: May 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781935188162

T.C. McMullen

T.C. McMullen first pleased her fans in 2002 with the surprisingly "clean" yet suspenseful psychological thriller, Whispers of Insanity. It focused on the characters more than blood or gore. Gone Before Dawn, inspired by her local area, thrilled even more readers, but it was The Manipulated Evil Trilogy with the intricate plot and her strong female warrior Ravyn that gained attention from readers from Washington to Maine, Pennsylvania to Idaho and even across the globe to the UK and Australia.Since then, T.C. has written more novels, all with tales full of deep characters. Despite being an independent author, her work is anything but half-rate. A perfectionist at heart, she has studied the craft of writing as well as art since she graduated high school in 1990.She enjoys research into the myths of ancient cultures and draws much of her inspiration from the stories. Not usually a fan of fantasy because she prefers faster paced stories than most fantasy, she nevertheless found herself pulled into the realm of the genre with her own work. Although she has written about dragons and other familiar mythical creatures, she always strives to add a unique twist either to the character or to the race or setting.

Book preview

Prologue

Ships streaked blue through the night sky. Anadria watched the horrible silver bullets, rumbling away silence with their sparks and smoke plume tails, coming to pierce the flesh of Mother World. The burning stench reached her senses despite the great distance, stirring old fears and sorrows. The pilots would have to find a place solid and secure to land their crafts, that much she could tell from the form of them. That was their limitation, but the beings the ships carried would work hard to delete those limitations, and then they would swarm the world. It was their nature.

Anadria stroked her staff to the soil, wanting to soothe Mother World’s heart, feeling it tremble beneath her sandals as the ships landed. Her motion was a pacifying attempt only. She had known the bad to come. It was why she traveled so far south and east from her home in the Syrinx Mountains. She had witnessed the torture of Mother World twice in her nearly six hundred thousand Earth years of life. She couldn’t bear to watch it again, not without trying to stop it. She and other Annunukar had taught the human survivors of the second world cataclysm how to tap into Mother World’s heart and read what she needed. They had flourished into a beautiful mortal community greater and kinder than she ever could have hoped. They learned to understand the careful balance of one living thing to another, and how grand a relationship it could be if they respected what was once thought a thing to be used, a soulless thing.

The new arrivals wouldn’t feel the same. These humans were of the old time, the evacuees returning two thousand years after they ran from the horror they helped create. They were hungry for power in resources again, she was certain.

She turned to the stone metropolis of Edir glowing softly, naturally, with solar lighting at its borders. The Rasp Mountains stood proudly behind it, shadows against the star freckled sky. She cast her thoughts over the great land expanse separating it from her and embedded her message in the key-stone. She warned the Inaut people of the Coming, not hiding her sadness or fear. She hoped they would all retreat to the impassable Kharsag Mountain Range. The Inaut alone would be able to etch out paths in the jagged stone masses created when continents crashed together in a huge destructive collision that made much of the dry land of old one again. Mother World had healed greatly but slowly over two thousand years. Still, harsh lands, weather, and vicious life forms presented dangers the newcomers couldn’t anticipate. Deserts would help protect the Inaut as well as the mountains would, no matter what technology the newcomers had acquired.

Anadria walked softly into the forest toward the eastern coast. If the humans now landing had any heart left for their planet of seeding, a simple touch of her mind would awaken that care. If she could reach enough, maybe—just maybe—she could inform them as she and her people had informed the Inaut so many years ago. She and her comrades once thought the species their elders helped create was beyond learning things of such depth, but the Inaut had shown them there was hope. She hoped the newcomers would do the same.

Chapter One

Tryn swung her pickaxe and cut another dart bullet from the air inches from her leg. A fourth hit avoided. She leapt the slight rift and clung to the side of the cold cavern wall with her left hand for only a moment before scaling to the low ceiling. None of the guards could follow her antics, none ambitious or nimble enough to even attempt the climb. She, though, she was their best digger and knew every crease and sharp edge to hold onto or jump from along the ceilings and walls.

Gargan’s fifth shot kicked a puff of dust from the stone she hopped onto.

When are you going to learn! Gargan shouted. His growl alone let her know his frustration had peaked beyond where she usually pushed it. Devil child, the worst in this hole!

Tryn choked down a laugh. She shouldn’t have found the situation funny, but her blood pumped so hot it warmed her spirit and was gratifying beyond anything she’d felt for months. She wiped the smile from her lips with the back of her filthy hand and rolled to peek over the stone. Below, familiar trodden paths of black dust stretched and vanished in all directions. The all-too-clean guards hovered there, watching with perplexed expressions twisting their pale faces. They nearly glowed in the dark. Four of them. Only Gargan carried a dart shooter in clear view.

Gargan had one shot left. One. It was a good number, yet she had no idea what she planned to do next. Running from Gargan hadn’t been her best choice for the day, but as usual, she hadn’t fully thought the action through. All she knew was that she didn’t want to surface for the market. She was no animal to be sent to field or slaughter or a slave for someone’s household. She was a slave, she couldn’t deny, but she’d been in the mines so long, she taught herself to like it.

She stared at the black ceiling, watching the flickering flame-light lick the cuttingly sharp edges, edges she had created, prying every usable mineral from what the Madai viewed as junk rock. Junk just like her and her kind.

Murmuring hastened below, then one voice rose above the others, ordering them to hush. Slave girl, may I have a word with you? the man asked. The newest guard. He had yet to lose his manners.

I’m listening, she called down, using Common Tongue just as he had.

Might I inquire what the problem is? I thought you would be thrilled with the prospect of fresh air and sunlight, not run from it like this.

How long have you been down here? Take a guess, she said. And what do they call you?

Corporal Dagard, he answered. I’ve been here for…

She listened to him count and chuckled. Seven hours, Corporal Dagard. It’s been seven hours since the last shift change, that’s all. And how do your eyes feel seeing sunlight after those seven hours?

Well, I… Ask for some shade. Why this? Do you have any idea the punishment you are inviting by doing these tricks?

A beating inches from death? Yes, I know. But I’ve only experienced it twice this month, so I guess I need to step it up to not fall behind my record.

See! Gargan shouted. Unreasonably stupid, this one. Should leave it here, no one would want to buy it anyway. I tried to tell you.

I was told to surface all females of worthwhile age, lieutenant, and this one is of good age and health. I have no intentions of leaving her behind.

I have no intention of coming down, Tryn said.

More murmurs. She laughed again, hearing enough of each word to understand it.

Your folly is in believing us slaves ignorant, you pathetic imbeciles, she said, though not too loudly. If they heard, that was well, but if not, it was their loss.

Your battling days are over young Tryn, you need to let them be in faded memory.

Tryn rolled onto her shoulder and found old Sarmi goggling her with his one remaining eye from a lower ledge.

Why must you cause all this ruckus down here? I’m an old man, done with these rebellious things. It no longer amuses me.

Nothing amuses you, she said, and this concerns you none. Be gone.

He furrowed his craggy brow, creating gray cracks in the coating of filth across his forehead, but he climbed down from view without argument.

So, slave girl, how exactly do you see this situation resolving? Corporal Dagard again. Noisy he was.

You going away, she said.

It is the festival of harvest above, he said. A grand thing for the city. And it’s been appointed to me to see you brought above for sale. You may very well find yourself purchased by someone of wealth. I cannot understand this action you’ve taken.

I’m not for sale, she said to the wall. I’ve never been bought or sold, and I have no desire to start now.

She had tolerated enough auctions over the years, the scrutiny, the snide and ignorant remarks, all buyers looking at her as if she couldn’t understand their fancy words or accents. She endured the last harvest sale a year ago, managing to scare off prospective buyers. The older she got, the more she looked like a woman, not a young boy, and men always believed they could tame a woman, take from her and make her carry children as more slaves. She knew what a precious commodity she was. Good health, perfect child bearing age.

Picks clinked and cracked against the stone below. She peeked down and saw a ladder sliding toward her. She rolled, leaping from her haven. A loud snap sounded from the pistol Gargan fired. Mid-air lent her no protection. The dart pierced her shoulder. She gripped the wall, hearing Dagard scold Gargan. Her vision blurred. She stretched her fingers over her shoulder, felt the dart against her fingernail, too low to grasp before the full dose filled her.

Get ready to catch her, you ignorant pigs. How dare you risk damaging this one so close to sale!

Damage? Tryn leapt from the wall, flipping backwards and landing on her feet in front of Gargan. She saw two of him, but only one had detail. She swung her closed fist at him, then delighted in the hard hit to her jaw. Perfect. She felt skin break and sweet blood rose to her lip before she fell to the path and sharp stones waiting to pierce her back. Then her muscles refused to obey. She screamed internally, hating the hopeless feeling. Her mind alone remained her own, alert and free of fog as rope tightened around her wrists and legs. She was theirs to do with as they wanted. Only Dagard’s presence would keep them from abusing her. She was too precious to soil this close to sale. But it didn’t stop them from touching her in places she promised they would pay for when she returned. Rocks had a way of splitting in just the wrong way to collapse on unsuspecting guards, especially under her expert hands.

~*~

Cedrik swallowed the sour taste stirred by the forced smile he offered the main gate keeper. He handed over his official identification badge as his invitation, waited for the nod of acceptance, and stepped onto the relatively clear pathways of the opening slave market. The chaos and ruckus from the city streets, he gladly left behind, but what waited ahead tortured him even more. Smoke and boiling berries perfumed the air; all an attempt to cover the sour stench of filthy slaves prepped and polished just enough to look presentable.

Women lined the walls, some in tattered fancy dresses, some shouting offers he didn’t desire to hear or need. All were far too thin. Their eyes shined like black gems as did most all of the Inaut race. It was a race thought of mixed heritages so intertwined that the color of their skin had changed from white, red, or black to a kind of pale stone gray. Some said it had to do with how they ate and survived in the forests and mountains of Earth too. Many of his people considered them animals. He knew different.

He shoved groping hands away and pushed through lines of buyers with eyes full of greed and unrespectable intentions. Some would no doubt give the women a decent home, but it sickened him no less to know they felt the offspring they had with these women were worthy of only servitude, no more valuable than the women surrounding him. Their own children.

He wove his way through the most popular prospects to the last street, called Last Level. It was last because the tired and scarred souls it held were those least expected to please a man for any purpose.

The level’s keeper bowed his head. Good day, Sir Cedrik.

Cedrik nodded in return and clenched his fists to keep from hammering the man. In all probability, the poor sap had no say in the treatment of slaves. Cedrik chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe the man was as troubled by the cages and chains as he was.

He wandered down one path, then the next, not hearing one promise or one beg. These women were aged, deformed, and bereft of spirit. They all looked out at him, their eyes as empty as split seed pods. He walked Last Level, each time he came, to see if just one could be saved. As before, he left knowing none there could survive on their own. He would have to try the male level of the sale.

He exited without acknowledging the gate keeper’s apologies for the low quality of the less expensive merchandise. The paths crowded quickly. Cedrik dodged his way through lines growing long before several exceptionally shaped and enticing slaves. The men nearly seemed to pant before them, shouting competitive amounts, each louder and larger than the preceding offer. He scrubbed his hand over his face to erase the scene around him. None of these girls could be saved because someone would outbid him for certain. He had to be careful with the amounts he spent.

Robbery that is! a man shouted. It’s worth far more than this!

Look at it, limp as a dead fish.

It’s an act, I tell ya, an act! It doesn’t listen to anything.

All the more reason to offer so little. I don’t much care its age or quality if it’s that disobedient.

Cedrik stopped and fought against the push and shoves of those behind him. He listened for a moment, then headed toward the back path of the front level.

A month’s worth of calibin can be supplied, a gruff looking guard shouted at a man beside him. By then it’s up to you to have it trained. At any rate, this amount you’ve offered is inexcusable and rejected!

The two men argued from the farthest corner, where the gate to the mines stood open for the guards to pass through easily. Cedrik made his way right then left, feigning interest in several sales going on, until the crowd thinned enough for him to see a cage next to the enraged man.

Cages were saved for Last Level slaves, the slaves with arms too frail to wrap in heavy chains. The woman in this cage didn’t have that problem, and Cedrik was quick to note she was also chained to two heavy rocks behind the pen. The guard acting as her keeper snarled curses at her, but she stared blankly ahead, blinking rarely, sitting limply against the bars despite the pokes and prods of the guard and prospective buyers. He wondered at first why she hadn’t been placed in the last level, her eyes so silver and unmoving, he thought her at least partly blind. One side of her chin and jaw appeared bruised and slightly swollen. He scanned the statistics on the sale tag attached to the bars. She was twenty-two years old and just over a meter and a half tall.

I guarantee you, this is all an act. She wishes not to be sold, the keeper shouted, sounding far too desperate now.

One wishes not to be sold from the mines? A man scoffed. Who do you expect to believe that?

A flick of light, and Cedrik realized her irises were not clouded with a film of eye disease but were as bright as polished blue-silver, a hue he’d never seen in Inaut eyes before. Cedrik studied her face, so beautifully petite he thought his hand would surely cover her cheek from brow to perfectly curved chin. He’d never seen an Inaut quite so—exquisite. He shook his head, scolding himself for such a thought. When he looked to her again, her steel eyes pierced him. She had moved without notice. Her stare still seemed somehow distant, yet slicing; her limbs hung slack, but she pressed her lips firmly together. He moved closer. Her glare deepened then vanished with only the slightest waver. He stooped down next to her between two tall men.

Sir, please, Sir Cedrik, be careful. This one tends to lash when you least expect it. Don’t be fooled by her appearance.

Men laughed. Cedrik didn’t doubt the keeper’s words. She was small but each muscle in her bare forearms and biceps was etched firm with strength. The rest of her would be just as powerful.

Why? he asked.

She continued to stare ahead at nothing.

You hear me, he said.

The muscle along her neck to the strong shoulder tensed ever so slightly beneath the thin strap of her shirt.

Cedrik stood. Three hundred tregs. Gasps surrounded him.

We’re asking for five, the guard said.

Cedrik turned, eyeing the six men encircling him. I don’t see anyone tempted to offer even as much as I have. He waited for murmurs and nods of agreement.

The guard squirmed one foot into the dust.

Would it be better for you to return with her unsold? Cedrik asked. You do get some commission, do you not, even from three hundred?

And they appoint me this impossible bitch! The guard kicked her through the bars. She fell to her side, but didn’t show any sign of discomfort.

Cedrik bit back his shout. Might I suggest not beating my merchandise or I’ll have to lower my bid. He held out his sack with all three hundred of his tregs. Tension twisted up his spine. If the guard did take the sack, he was out the month’s remaining pay but if the man didn’t accept the bid… Cedrik couldn’t describe the odd sense of fear creeping from his gut. He had never wanted a purchase to go through quite so badly before.

The man swiped it from his fist, snarling hateful words at the cage the entire time. The other men chuckled at Cedrik’s stupidity or bravery, slapped his shoulder in mock congratulations for at least having a pretty thing to look at, and drifted back down to the main path.

Cedrik turned to follow the guard and discuss the transfer of ownership when her hand snapped out and nearly crushed his ankle. She had twisted in the chains, dragging one stone against the back bars to flip onto her stomach so quickly and silently no one noticed. Her stunning eyes roiled with anger potent despite her low vantage point.

Demand a refund, she said. Or for sure you’ll regret it. Her Common Tongue sounded perfect in his ears, not twisted at all with Inaut accent, just a lusciously smooth sound. But she was Inaut, he didn’t doubt that. The strength of her fingers even through his hard riding boot shook him and proved it. Inaut were fierce with strength.

Do you know how to ride? he asked.

She furrowed her brow. Are you deaf?

I’m no more deaf than you are worthless.

Ask him where I’m from, she said. His answer will match mine, the mines, see here under my nails, the proof. I’ve worked them for years. I’ll kill you the first chance I get. I promise you that.

Cedrik shook his boot loose of her grip, a little disturbed by how much effort it took, and stooped down eye level with her again. He kept farther back than before, noting well the length of the chains. She lashed at him, straining her powerful arms. Her fingertips clawed the air inches from his throat before she gave up.

Trust me, he said, careful to keep his voice low and only for her.

She narrowed her spirit-filled eyes. Cedrik glanced over his shoulder to be sure the guard stood otherwise occupied. Another guard had pulled him into a discussion.

I realize you’ve probably never been given a reason to trust anyone in your life but I ask you to do so now. To just beyond the city limits. Will you agree to that much?

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them but her sharp gaze never faltered from him. So many questions about her rushed his thoughts, though none included anything about her time in servitude. He doubted she’d been born to it. Not this one.

If not, just give me the word and I’ll request a refund. But I must know now. I must know if my money will be wasted by you trying to run within the city.

Uncertainty roiled in the stormy sea of her eyes, so visible, so potent. So like someone else he knew.

I’ll take your silence as agreement, he said, hearing the crunch of the guard’s boot in the sand behind him. Unless you have something new to add.

I see you’ve made it speak, the guard said.

Cedrik stood to face the man. Yes, indeed.

So you see I was not telling a lie when I spoke of its act.

Cedrik nodded. I thought from the look of you, I could trust you, but from the look of her, how could I be certain.

The man grinned, falling for the compliment fully. Cedrik couldn’t fault the guard for his weakness. He was told he had a way of making people believe anything.

What’s your name? Cedrik asked as he took the paper tablet and pen. Still so primitive there in the slave shops.

Lieutenant Gargan, Sir, he said with a sharp salute of hand to chest.

Cedrik handed him the signed tablet. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.

Gargan unlocked a box he carried on his belt and pulled a thin silver key and a flat shock tag from it.

Sir, here is the key to the cuffs it will be released to you with. This tag is for your own safety. Just press the center if it runs or otherwise gets out of hand and the cuffs will send a shock up both arms to cripple it for a full minute. I suggest you have restraints ready at all times to slap on it if need be.

I don’t believe I’ll have any trouble, Lieutenant, I’ve dealt with my share of difficult animals.

She hissed from inside the cage, no doubt believing he meant what he called her. Once they were well on their way from spying eyes and ears, he would have to clear up a few things. Cedrik walked leisurely down the slope then he remembered his first concern.

Oh, Lieutenant, I was hoping you could tell me, is it capable of riding?

Gargan wrinkled his broad nose. Excuse me?

Riding? I have no transport with me, was just out enjoying the weather before the storms and gathering some supplies. I have only horses. Should I be worried of her ability to stay on one?

Cedrik caught a glimpse of her evil grin but remained focused on the keeper. The lieutenant swallowed deeply, almost a gulp.

I don’t see why it couldn’t. But I highly suggest you give it a nag or a cripple.

Cedrik nodded in agreement, a little less leery of how he would get the woman from the city limits quickly. Chances were she’d seen a horse before. With her build, she would be able to stay mounted even if she’d never ridden before. The only thing tickling his concerns was if he was ready to lose the steed he had for carrying supplies or if he dare trust the spirited stallion not to harm her.

Chapter Two

Tryn shivered. She was used to the cool dampness from the mines, but in the open night she also had to contend with wind. Her eyes hurt and watered less than before. Moonlight showed much more mercy than harsh sun. The fresh air washed through her, bringing to her attention just how congested she was of mine dust. She coughed and spit grit again, breathing deeper than she ever remembered breathing, but her chest hurt from the strange motion.

It all should have been good, despite the ache in her wrists from being chained to the wall to wait for her warden. She bristled at the word and the thought of the young man. He had looked young at any rate, clean shaven and well dressed. They called him Sir Cedrik, meaning he wasn’t of military but of royalty. High and rich royalty, no doubt, to toss around three hundred tregs so confidently.

Her only solace came from the knowledge that she could easily take his kind. He wouldn’t last the night for having the gull to buy her and end her streak of never being bought or sold. The only reason the garrison had her at all was because they attacked her clan and captured all survivors from low along the Nurla Forest pass. Why her father had moved his rebel force so far from the mountain terrain and protection, she would never know, and never again would she follow anyone to a place she deemed unfit, no matter who they were.

She’d known her father’s mind wasn’t well those last few days. Then he fell almost willingly in the battle where her family had been taken. All because of the drugged darts too. First thing she planned to do when she reached home was layer up on leather to be sure they would never stick her with those darts again. Then she would hunt the Madai for what they’d done.

The stupidest thing the garrison ever did was sell her. She planned to inform them of their stupidity soon enough. For now, though, she had to behave or they would drug her again, and that wouldn’t go well.

A few of the other girls whimpered, as they snuggled deeper under their skirts, clothes given to them to make them more feminine. She alone remained dressed in her work clothes, probably because the last man who put a dress on her had died when a boulder near her toppled onto him two days later.

Some women sat close enough to huddle and share warmth. Tryn scowled at all of them. She despised their weak little murmurs, sickened by how happy some of them were to be bought. As if they had accomplished some great deed. She wondered how many would be beaten to death or die in childbirth within the next year.

From across the huge courtyard, the gates creaked open and pierced the silence. Some girls stirred, others didn’t move. Tryn arched her back, snapping two vertebrae between her shoulder blades back into place after being hunched around her legs and shivering for so long. Then she listened with all the skill of her ears and mind to pick syllables from the air. She recognized his calm tone instantly when he spoke a congenial greeting followed by his request for her. Torches flamed at the gates and two guards climbed the incline. Several women begged for blankets. Stupid. The guards didn’t even glance at them, fully focused on retrieving a thing.

A young new face pointed the dart gun at her, but his hands shook so violently on the butt of the tool she doubted he would hit her. Gargan jangled the keys into their slots and swung open the groaning door of her cage. He paused, his beady eyes glittering.

One wrong move and you’ll be sleeping your way out of here, he said.

Don’t worry, Tryn said. I won’t hurt you. Yet.

Shadows covered Gargan’s eyes under his furrowed brow. He stooped to reach her wrists when she refused to lift them. He slapped one heavy chain between her arms and released the two holding her to the wall. She jumped boldly to her feet without aid of her hands. Gargan scrambled backward, arms flailing, and a dart puffed in the dust at her feet. Tryn eyed the dart, then the trembling younger man, and clucked her tongue at him.

You best learn to control yourself, boy, she said. A man who can’t isn’t too desirable to the ladies.

He clumsily worked the bolt, clanking another dart into the chamber, and pointed it at her again. She covered a chuckle with a cough and spit at Gargan’s feet.

You’re lucky you’re bought, he grumbled.

Or else you’d swing at me? Tryn deliberately raised her voice and widened her eyes in mock horror. Oh, oh, the terror is rippling through my veins! She swept her closed fists over her forehead in an exaggerated act of swooning.

Gargan yanked her hands down, tripping her forward. She easily caught her balance. One couldn’t scale walls and stone beams without excellent balance. She tolerated his attempt at punishing her until she reached the gate, then she ripped her hands free of his and hissed at him through clenched teeth.

I only promised not to hurt you up there, she said.

Now, now, Cedrik said, is that any way for you to behave?

Tryn whirled on her new keeper but found herself wrapped in the smoothest of cloths, surprisingly warm, before she could lash at him. She gripped the heat instead of him, a solar blanket, not cheap and certainly not for use on slaves. Oddly, it was covered with a matted layer of wool, concealing its opulent underside.

Won’t do good to have you ill for your first days on my compound. Now, let’s be going, shall we?

She pulled against Cedrik’s firm grip, nowhere near finished with Gargan. She needed to promise him death for what he’d done to her since her arrival there eight years before, but Cedrik had her shoulders firmly between his strong hands and shoved her ahead.

We need not draw more attention to ourselves, I beg you. I’d rather not have to carry you out in a drug stupor, he whispered in her ear. His breath felt hot and much too pleasant against her cheek.

I’ll ask nicely for you to remove your hands, she said, returning the quiet tone not out of calmness but out of total irritation. She loathed the feel of anyone so near, especially a Madai.

Can I trust you will follow willingly without word with the guards?

Tryn mashed her teeth together, biting the terrible dusty taste in her mouth. She would never obey another person, certainly not one who claimed to own her. Still, this man created too many questions.

I don’t make promises to your kind, she said, but sure, I’ll follow.

He stopped pushing her, and a moment later the weight of his hands slid away. She adjusted the blanket on her shoulders, not willing to give it up without a fight. Not for anyone for any reason.

Side by side, he said. Stay close or I’ll man handle you again.

Man handle. Tryn spat. You sorry—

Hush now, unless you wish them to drag you back.

She watched the line of guards ahead. They ogled her as she approached, no doubt recognizing her on sight. They wore full helmets of thin metal but she knew a few of the glaring sets of eyes despite their armor.

She’s your problem now, one snipped as she passed.

Good night to you all, Cedrik said with a quick bow of his head.

He continued straight down the main avenue toward blue lights of the glowing city buildings. The space port shined the brightest and stood near enough for her to see three large cylindrical shuttles ready for launch to the giant station in Earth’s orbit. From there they would pass to the other planet said to support life. Tryn never cared to learn about it. If not for it, the city surrounding her, and the people enslaving her, would never exist. Besides, she had enough trouble on her own planet.

So. She worked hard to make her tone as snide as possible. A wealthy man on horses?

Not much use for transports where I live, he said. Horses are more efficient and mine are of good quality.

No nag or cripple?

Cedrik smiled. I guessed right about you. Good acting skills, sharp mind.

More than I can say for you. Just how long do you think you’re going to live tonight?

Wouldn’t it do you well not to threaten your new master so close to guards, he said, without so much as a blinked lash. And I’m not worried. He swept his heavy gaze over her, blue eyes flecked with green and brown and so much more than it seemed.

Despite all the warnings and my own threat, you still say this?

Yes.

Tryn furrowed her brow then suddenly understood. Ahh, the shock restraints.

I wouldn’t stoop so low, he said. I’ve already disabled the chip to those cuffs.

Tryn frowned, not comprehending him at all. She glanced at the backs of guards they passed, then stepped aside, increasing the space between herself and Cedrik.

I would wait till you’re beyond the city limits at least, he said. I haven’t more tregs to buy you back and I assure you, with your reputation, we’re being watched closely. Quite a few dart guns or rifles are aimed at you from these surrounding buildings. Don’t let the primitive slave holdings fool you. Their communication is excellent within this stronghold.

Tryn directed her gaze to the dirt beaten so hard under footsteps over the years that nothing grew. Her chest swelled uncomfortably tight with uncertainty and even a touch of worry. This man wasn’t what she thought. He noticed her slight move from his peripheral vision,